


Brothers

by meonlyred



Series: The Skyfall Legacy [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Attempted Murder, Blood, F/M, M/M, Male Sith Warrior/Original Character, Male Sith Warrior/Vette - Freeform, Original Characters - Freeform, Violence, domestic abuse, some strong language
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 14:45:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13592331
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meonlyred/pseuds/meonlyred
Summary: Before they would become known as the Lord Wrath and Darth Nox; Lucwayn and Jessian Sivron were young brothers living in their home in New Adasta. As they approach their initiation into the Sith Academy on Korriban, Jessian attempts to prove he is the better Sith by murdering his older brother.





	Brothers

**Author's Note:**

> Radja Novarr is borrowed from elementa1st. Lucwayn's story takes place in the same fan-canon universe as my Knight Rossa's, story line.

The Sivron’s luxury apartment in New Adasta was a reflection of their wealth and influence. Upon entering, guests would be greeted by a gilded protocol droid and led into a foyer. Its ceiling was domed with ornate patterns, the floors black marble leafed in gold, and the walls were linear accented lines of shades of dark grey. No expense was spared for the finest materials. Past the foyer was the living room. Its walls stretched up to the second floor of the apartment where the bedrooms were. A sectioned couch was squared around the center of the room. A crystal contemporary chandelier in the shape of a large sphere hung just above the couch, drawing the eye. Two walls were lined with floor to ceiling windows, framed by Imperial Red curtains. A tall set of doors divided the windows and lead to a balcony that overlooked the city. Completing the room were several abstract art pieces. A coveted collection; some pieces had been in the family for generations. The art reflected the Sivron family: refined and regal but abrasive and severe. As children, playing too close would have resulted in a sharp disciplinary slap across the cheek.

Outside the sun had set hours ago and the lights from the city twinkled like golden starlight. A light dusting of snow had collected on the balcony. It might always rain on Dromund Kaas but it always snowed on Ziost. It was frigidly cold outside. But then Jessia Sivron had never found warmth inside his family's home either.

His father, Alessandro Tal Sivron, was a stern and joyless Sith Lord, who’s only passion came from maneuvering their family through the entanglement of Sith politics. For generations their family had aspirations for a seat on the Dark Council and had sought to make that a reality within reach of his sons’ lifetime. He was known for his cold demeanor and his calculated cunning.

An equally powerful Sith Lord was his wife, Mya Sivron. She was a neglectful mother who had preferred to hire a nanny to raise her children while she hosted the premiere socal events of the Empire. Her sons, namely their eldest was more of a possession to be shown off instead of loved. Something for her to parade in front of her and use as a tool to increase the family’s political standing.

Their marriage was loveless and had been arranged in their teens. They were more akin to business partners coming together to produce powerful Sith heirs. In that they had succeeded with their first son. Jessian’s elder brother, Lucwayn Tal Sivron, had a connection to the Force like iron. With training he would become an unstoppable juggernaut. In a few weeks he would be sent to Korriban. Their parents had negotiated with a headmaster there to see that his advancement into the Sith ranks would be expedited. It was all but guaranteed that by this time next year he would be the apprentice of a powerful  well connected Darth.

Meanwhile, Jessian was all but forgotten. He had nowhere near his brother’s connection to the Force.

_ “You will never be Sith.” _

_ “How could a child as weak as you be a son of mine?” _

_ “Lucwayn is our true son.” _

_ “Korriban will be your death.” _

Those were the words Jessian had grown up hearing. They were his lullaby. The words carved into him his hatred of his parents and eldest brother. 

Their insults had begun to block out how close he and Lucwayn had been as children. The times they nearly froze to death because they had snuck out of their rooms at night to climb onto the roof of their home in New Adasta. Where they would stare at the stars and conspire about the time when they would be powerful Sith brothers, together.

It was jealousy that now ate at Jessian’s heart and soured every moment they had together. Lucwayn’s cluelessness of his brother's pain did nothing but add fuel to the fire that was smouldering within him. Its smoke hazing his clarity and choking out all love he might have once had.

The Sivron family was known throughout Ziost. Though they had never held a seat on the Dark Council, they were recognized among their fellow Sith. For generations exorbitant dowries were exchanged between the elite of Ziost and Dromund Kaas for arranged marriages. A fortune had been paid to secure a marriage between Lucwayn and the Novarr’s daughter. Whom Lucwayn apparently had no interest in, judging by the way he slept with nearly every young socialite he meet in his nightly escapades.

Jessian’s lips curled at the thought of how his brother wasted his potential with such hedonistic ventures. The upper echelon had taken to calling Lucwayn the Prince of Ziost as an amused nickname. No one could recall exactly were he had picked up the nickname, only that it had stuck. By his arrogant, lofty attitude he certainly could be confused for a prince.

_ That would all end tonight _ , Jessian thought as he ran his finger along the sharpen edge of his vibroblade. He had tested the blade earlier that evening. How delightfully easy it was to cut the flesh of their neighbors pet. Perfect for fratricide.

Their home was empty, save for himself. Jessian had paid the servants to go home early. Their parents had gone to the Imperial Opera house and Lucwayn was out drinking with his shallow friends. He would arrive back home first while their parents would still be at the after party. Plenty of time for Jessian to murder his brother. Killing him would show their parent's his prowess and cunning. Furthermore, without their precious progeny they could no longer ignore him and his potential. Mother was too old to produce another heir. He was all they had. The last of their line. They would soon know much they needed him and how wasted their attention had been on his foolish elder brother.

So here he sat, concealed in the shadows of his own home, waiting for his brother to come home so he might cut his throat. He grinned at that thought. To see the look on his parent's face to find their favorite son laying in a pool of his own blood. To know that Jessian was strong enough to best Lucwayn. To realize it was him who was truely Sith.

The hours ticked by as Jessian seethed in his anger and jealousy. It formed images in his mind of his rise to greatness. He would be known and feared throughout the galaxy. The violent mark he would carve would be so great that even the Emperor would take notice.

From his hiding spot he heard the hiss of the front doors sliding open. Carefully he leaned out to see Lucwayn in the the threshold in the embrace of another man. Another wealthy Sith to be, from the looks of him. He had Lucwayn pressed up against the doorframe, hands groping and lips locked in a drunken display. Another one of his brother's lovers. Most likely here to sleep with him.

Jessian hesitated. He has planned to assault Lucwayn as he had come home. But he had been counting on him being alone. While he believed that he could best his brother while he was intoxicated. He doubted he could take the both of them. Neither could he wait until they had fucked and drifted off to sleep. By that time their parents would be back from the opera. 

As he considered, his luck changed. His brother's lover pulled away and said something softly to him. Lucwayn looked disappointed but nodded. He took his chin and gave him one last long kiss and walked away. 

Anticipation made his heart pound and his palms sweat. Soon his greatest obstacle would be out of his way. He held onto that feeling, used it like fuel for his power like a true Sith.

Lucwayn entered the vestibule alone with drooped shoulders. He almost tripped over the foyer table. Their mother’s priceless vase wobbled dangerously for a moment before settling back into place. He whooshed out a relieved sigh before continuing his way forward with one hand on the wall to balance himself. 

Sweat beaded on Jessian’s brow and his fingers tightened around the vibroknife in his hand. His time was now. The drunken goon had no idea he was stumbling to his death. Breathing in his hatred he stepped from the shadows. Lucwayn didn’t even notice him until he almost ran into him.

* * *

It was disappointing that Asheus had decided not to spend the night with him. He had made the excuse of not wanting to risk the wrath of the Novarr house. Lucwayn had told him that he didn’t care. His betrothed, Radja Novarr, while they were friends, had her own ambitions as he had his. But he understood. Neither the Sivrons or Novarrs would raise too much of a fuss as long as they remained discreet and kept up appearances. However, servants talked. Fooling around in the back of a club was one thing, it was almost expected for someone of his age and social standing. Yet spending the night was something else. It spoke more of commitment. Tongues would wag at such a scandal. Despite what his mother might think, he wasn't entirely ignorant of social faux pas. So Asheus had left, leaving Lucwayn to sleep off his hangover alone. Lamentable but it wasn't like he hadn't gotten his cock sucked earlier that evening.

His foot caught the corner of the carpet and he would have tripped forward had he not grabbed the solid shoulders in front of him. He blinked through his intoxicated haze at his brother’s stoney face in front of him. 

“Ah Jessian,” he grinned at his little brother. How he loved him. They hadn't gotten to be together as much as they used to but that hadn't dulled his affection for him. Jessian was clever and far smarter than he at their academic studies. He had an admirable attentiveness and focus. Jessian was the brains and he the brawn, he used to joke.

Lucwayn wobbled in his feet as Jessian’s hand flashed in front of him too quick for him to follow. For a moment he thought he was trying to help steady him. But his throat felt strange. The air around it felt suddenly colder and the front of his shimmersilk shirt went warm and wet. He took an unbalanced step away from Jessian. Raising his hand to his throat it came away covered in blood. His blood. But it didn't hurt. Why didn't it hurt?

Another step backward brought him into the dining room. His heart began to hammer as his inebriated mind struggled to make sense of what was happening. Now he saw the vibroknife in Jessian’s hand as he raised it again. This time Lucwayn jerked his head back to try and avoid the strike. Had he not been drunk he might been able to dodge it. Instead the blade caught his jawline and slipped up his cheek. Now it hurt.

Still moving backwards his arm went out to try catch himself. The chair he grabbed slipped off its legs; unable to support his weight. Both him and it clattered to the marble floor. 

Jessian stalked after him. Vibroknife in hand, cold murder on his face.

Lucwayn walked back on his elbows. 

“Brother?” 

Talking hurt and all he could taste was copper as a blood ran out the corner of his mouth.

Jessian’s boot on his chest pushed him down to the ground. Kneeling he squeezed the air from his lungs with his knee. Then another cut, along his throat, deeper this time. And another and another. But never enough to outright kill him. He was savoring the moment.

Lucwayn realized he was going to die. His brother was going to kill him. 

His head went light and his vision began to go foggy. With a snap, survival instinct kicked in. He was not even aware of what he was doing. Just raised his hand to Jessian’s chest and thought  _ push _ .

It was like a battering ram struck Jessian in the chest. It hit him with enough force that he flew backwards across the living room, crashing through the balcony doors, and disappearing over the railing into the darkness.

Lucwayn’s body went limp on the hard floor as he started to feel oddly cold. His limbs felt heavy and watery. Spots appeared in his vision and all he could think of was how he much he wanted to close his eyes. 

Faintly he thought he heard a woman shriek.  _ Too late _ , he thought as his head was lifted into the lap of a veda cloth dress and a hand was sealed over his throat. Shadowy figures moved in his blurring vision. Jessian was surely dead. It was an eight story drop to the hard ferrocrete piazza below. He had killed his brother and he would soon die too. 

Lucwayn closed his eyes and nothing hurt anymore.

* * *

The opera had not met Lord Alessandro’s standards. The lead songstress had failed on a few occasions to reach the proper notes, the lead actor’s costume had a loose seam on the arm, and twice he had caught sight of the alien stage hands from behind the curtain. In the morning he would write a letter to the theatre manager about the sad state that their performance was dissolving into. 

His wife’s arm was linked in his as they walked the hall back to their apartment. Mya’s thoughts were her own but he had no doubt she was plotting through the information she had gained through the conversations she had that evening. He had seen the twinkle in her eyes when gossip had been dropped in her lap with something she could use to her advantage. Being the venomous woman she was, by morning she would have a plan to spin everything she had heard. By the following day someone's life would be destroyed. And by the week’s end it would have gained their family some sort of leverage.

Nearing their front door Alessandro wondered if his eldest son was still out philandering himself through half of the Ziost club scene. Alessandro didn't entirely care what his son did in his spare time as long as he didn't sire any bastards with their family blood. The Sivron legacy was riding on him and his upcoming marriage. Investigators had been secretly hired by Alessandro to keep eyes on the women Lucwayn slept with just to make sure they had no surprises in a few months. Luckily, Lucwayn favored men just as much as he favored women. As for the women he had been with, he had at least been careful. Thus far no actions had been required. 

As for their other son--Alessandro’s lip curled at the thought of him--how could their bloodline produce offspring with such a weak connection to the Force? He might as well be Force blind. Jessian was probably in his room pouring over his books. It might have been admirable if it wasn't so useless. He would be sent to Korriban with Lucwayn. There his books would not be able to save him. There he would mostly like only serve as a learning example of failure to his fellow acolytes. While no doubt, Lucwayn would leave the academy a weapon for the Empire.

Alessandro’s hand paused over the security control to their residence. The Force rippled through him and he smelled the unmistakable stench of blood. His hand went to his lightsaber as he opened the door. Mya sensed it too. He felt her power sending waves across his back. 

The freezing air from the open balcony doors was the first thing that caught his attention. The doors normally slid open like every other door in their home but now were busted outward like something had slammed through them. He took a step forward to investigate. 

“My son!” Mya shrieked behind him.

He spun to find Mya rushing into the dining room. Past her was a crimson soaked body of Lucwayn. Mya fell to her knees to cradle their dying legacy in her arms. Rage flooded through Alessandro’s veins. Who would be so bold?

“Droid! Call the medic,” she screamed her voice raw, “My son! My beautiful son!”

Alessandro turned away from her and went to the opened door. A vibroknife was laying on the floor, dropped on the inside of the door. He stepped through the ruined threshold out into the balcony. Faintly he heard shouting below. People had come running. One was calling for a medic. 

Alessandro stared down at the twisted body of his other son. Blood stained the white snow around him in a splattered pattern. The metal of the railing groaned as Alessandro’s fingers tightened with the Force, bending it in his anger. The little rat had tried to over step himself.

* * *

Lucwayn found himself in a black void that stretched infinity in every direction around him. Confused he took a step forward right into something soft and wet, like mud. Looking down he found himself ankle deep in the middle of a pool of black tar-like ichor. He took another step forward only to sink to his calves. Panic clutched him as he pulled against its hold and looked for the edge of this brackish pool. 

There it was, only feet away, hazy and black like the rest of this world, but solid enough. Taking another step forward he tried to reach it but he was sinking fast. He was up to his chest when he palmed the edge. Yet his victory was short lived. He felt cold hands grasping his ankles that began to pull. Frantically, his fingernails scratched at the surface looking for purchase. 

That is when he heard the chattering voices in his ear, barely coherent, coming from everywhere, “Come with us. Be with us. Embrace the dark.” 

Under the surface he felt more hands grab hold of him, pulling with durasteel like strength.

The ichor was around his head now. He struggled to keep his nose above the surface, the liquid getting into his mouth and coming to his nose. He was going to drown in this.

“No,” he managed, spitting out the word.

Complete terror set in as he realized this was the end. His lungs would fill with this thick liquid and he would be lost to darkness. Worst of all part of him wanted it. How much easier would it be just to let go? Just to allow himself to sink and take all that darkness within himself. After all was it not infinite and all around him? He could become part of it, join it, let it inside him. He could become as consuming as it was if he just let it take him. 

_ Just let go... _

“No!” he roared.

A renewed sense of fervor made him jerk and kick trying to shake the hands loose. His fingernails scraped desperate for a hold. He would not so easily succumb.

As he tilted his head back to try to greedy last few breaths he saw something coming out of the dark. Pale light shown in a form not unlike a woman. Closer it came until he realized that indeed it was a woman wearing a long robe with a deep hood. Everything about her glowed like a soft dawn; her hair, and skin. Her robes were a dull dark grey that partially concealed the glow. Her features were practically indistinguishable.

She came all the way up to the ichor and knelt at the edge where he was a breath away from going under. A delicate hand reached forward to take his wrist of the hand that was barely holding on.

“No, stay away,” he managed as a bit of ichor poured into his mouth. There was something so pure, so beautiful, so inspiring about her. He didn't want this radiance to be tainted by the darkness.

Where her long steely fingers took hold of his wrist the ichor peeled away like oil to water. She pulled then with surprising strength, and easily this woman of Light dragged him from the pool. As soon as she helped him gain enough purchase he scrambled the rest of the way onto solid ground. Still on his hands and knees he coughed and vomited out the ichor that had gotten inside him. 

Sitting back on his haunches he desperately tried to wipe the darkness off him.  It was gooey and clung to his skin and tangled in his hair. Unable to get clean, his hands fell useless into his lap.

At the corner of his vision the Light kneeled next to him. Despite barely being able to see her lips through the soft glare, he could tell she was smiling at him.

“Who are you?” his voice came out raw.

Still remaining silent she cupped her hands and held them out to him. Hesitantly he mirrored her. Between her fingers a small bead of light poured between her fingers and into his waiting hands. He held the Light in his palms, afraid that if he breathed it would flicker out. Such a small delicate thing, but in it was so much comfort and hope. 

Lucwayn glanced up to find the woman gone. He was once again alone in the darkness. 

No, not alone. The bead of Light continued to glow steady. A lifeline. A guide.

Around him, he could feel the Darkness growing, repulsed that the Light had invaded its perfection. He could see movement skittering towards him. Once it reached him, he knew it would destroy the Light and drag him away to be devoured.

Desperate, he pressed his hand to his chest hiding its glow. The Darkness halted. It still knew the Light was there somewhere but it couldn't find it. The Darkness swirled around him. The weight of its presence was oppressing, making his throat go dry with fear. Like a whisper he could barely hear it crawling on the back of his skull. Then it spread out and went to search elsewhere.

On weak knees he managed to stand. He hurt all the way down to his bones but he took a step forward, then another, and another. Through the endless void he trekked with his hidden Light. Things slithered in the darkness. Dangerous, poisonous, vile things. Things that only hungered to consume more and more. But they only saw the ichor still on him. They thought he was one of them and thus they let him pass, ignorant of what he carried.

In the back of his mind he knew he wouldn't be able to hide it forever. His only hope was to somehow find his way out of this abyss. But that felt like a fruitless dream. Still he had to try. So he continued to walk ever forward. 

* * *

With a jolt Lucwayn woke up. For a panicked moment he did not know where he was. Glancing around he quickly realized he was in a hospital room. The soft beep of the machine next to him showed his elevated heart rate and other vital signs. An IV ran out of his arm to a kolto bag and a nasal cannula was under his nose. 

Realizing he was no longer in danger he lay back down against the pillows. And began to process what had happened. Jessian had tried to kill him. For a moment Lucwayn thought he had. His hand trembled as he reached up to touch his throat. It was wrapped in several layers of bandages. It didn't hurt but his head felt like it was floating in fuzzy liquid. He suspected he had the kolto to thank for that. 

All he could remember was Jessian sitting on his chest carving ever deeper into his throat. He shouldn't be alive. Somehow, something had held onto the thread of his life and pulled him back.

A medical droid entered his room at a quick trot, probably alerted by his elevated heart rate. 

“Oh,” they exclaimed, “It is good to see you awake, my Lord. Your family will be pleased to know you are awake.”

_ Where are they? _ He started to ask but his voice wouldn't work. 

“Please don't try to speak.” The voice was entirely too chipper. “You have been through terrible trauma. But do not worry, our best physicians will have you right as rain in no time!”

The droid waddled out of the room leaving him alone to his thoughts. With a start he realized he still held his hand to his chest like he had in that vision or dream or whatever it was. Cautiously he pulled his hand back half expecting to see the tiny bead of Light. His hand was empty. He was no stranger to the concept of Force visions, he had heard of other Sith being able to see things that were or would be. This was the first time he had ever experienced one and found himself reeling at what it meant. It didn’t take a genius to understand the Darkness and Light for what it was. The Force and its swirling balance between its dueling sides. He saw what it would mean to drown in the Dark or forever be alone following the Light in this place.

He closed his eyes as tears leaked out the corners of his eyes and onto the pillow. He knew exactly which path he would choose. 

* * *

Consciousness was murky and sluggish. Jessian awoke slowly.  His mouth felt like cotton and he couldn’t move his limbs. Dazed he managed to look around the room he was in. A hospital it looked like. Thoughts were hard to form but he remembered; he had killed Lucwayn. Felt his blood on his hands, the vibroknife in his grip, watched as his brother’s eyes had rolled back into his head. His own felt like it had been struck by a speeder. Then darkness.

His eyes finally settled on the dark robed figure in the corner of the room. His father stood motionless, staring at him with his glowing yellow eyes. Despite their hue they were colder than he had ever seen them before.

Noticing he was awake Alessandro stepped closer. Jessian’s pride swelled, this was it. His father would have to acknowledge his greatness, call him to be his true son.

“Rat,” Alessandro’s voice dripped with venom. “I should just smother you with a pillow and be done with you.”

_ What? No _ ! Jessian tried to rise up but the drugs in his veins kept him from even lifting a finger.

“Your brother lives despite your pathetic attempt. You are even more worthless than I thought.”

Jessian managed to fight the drugs enough to move his arm only to find it restrained to the hospital bed.

“For your efforts I will not kill you,” he paused dramatically. “No, I have decided I will do much worst. I will spare no expense to make sure you live through your injuries. But from this moment on you are dead in all but body. Your mother and brother will believe you are dead as will the rest of the galaxy. Your name will be stripped from you and you will sold as a nameless slave. You will be among the rest of your kind, the worthless lowest creatures in our Empire. Where you go from there, when you truly die, I do not care. You are no longer my son.”

_ No! _ He wanted to scream but all that came out was an incoherent blubber. 

Alessandro turned sharply and glided out of the room with no glance over his shoulder at his forsaken offspring. 

Jessian railed and raged within his sedated body. Bits of drool ran down his chin from his numb mouth. He gave into all his hatred, let it take him until it was all he knew, and sunk deep into the pool of black ichor.

* * *

**Two years later:**

Lord Lucwayn had always been something of an enigma to Vette. She had known the Emperor’s Wrath since his humble origins on Korriban. Even then she knew the power he held, she didn’t need to be in tune with the Force to feel that power radiating off him. It was enough to make her throat choke in fear, yet he never wielded it cruely like so many of his fellow Sith. Though unyielding to his foes, he had shown her nothing but kindness. So unlike the many Sith and Imperials who hated aliens. 

No, the respect he showed her was beyond the standard politeness that one being should by rights show another. When she spoke she held his undivided attention. Though she couldn't be certain because of the mask, his eyes told her he was smiling every time she spoke to him.

Another mystery was what was behind that half mask of his. She had never seen him without it. When he ate, it was in private. When he slept, his door was always locked. At first she had imagined ghastly horrors of what had became of his jaw. Was it completely cut off in some horrible lightsaber incident? Had it been scarred or burned away? Despite her questioning he would never give her a straight answer. His eyes would twinkle in amusement and he would tease her with some outlandish story that she knew couldn’t possibly be true. 

Now that he finally told her the full story she had been unable to form a single word. She just stared at him in silence, mouth hung open like a fish. 

Lucwayn stepped away giving her space to collect herself. He took a seat on one of the supply crates in the corner of the cargo hold of his ship the Vengeance. He ran his fingers through his hair dark hair before looking back up at her.

“Vette, I…” his voice trailed off, distorted slightly behind the mask he wore. She wondered now if he could even speak without it. The Lord Wrath, the mighty Sith Lord chosen by the Emperor himself, sat before her looking timid and lost. She could only think of a handful of things that humbled her as much as this did. 

“It's not as bad as you might think,” he finished.

Slowly he reached up and began to undo the latches that kept the mask in place. There was a veritable mix of emotions swirling through her. Morbid excitement to finally see what he hid. Fear that of how damaged he might be. Sympathy when she realized what a big step this was. And sorrow for the regret he held so tightly.

The final latch clicked open and he pulled the mask away. It was the tattoo she noticed first. Bright red against his medium brown skin. Its sharp jagged design ran across his throat and over his lips which were giving her a strained smile. It was only after that did she notice the scars. Pale and ragged, carving the skin of his throat into horizontal lines. Admittedly it was nowhere as bad as what her overactive imagination had envisioned. There was no mistaking how handsome he was even with the scars. She could easily see why he had been given the nickname Prince of Ziost. The bone structure of his face gave him an almost regal look. He had also always been so princely to her.

“I couldn't just have the scars removed. That seemed somehow worse. Yet I couldn't stand to see them. So I tried to hide them with the tattoo.” Without the mask obstructing his voice, his words were deep and soothing. Vette wished she had always heard him talk without it. “The mask came later. I didn't have to see them all the time. Plus it helped with the appearance I was trying to preserve with the Sith.”

Vette stepped closer and reached up her hand. He stilled with a sharp intake of breath through his nose. Gently she placed her hand on the side of his jaw. 

“Why are you showing me?”

He let out the breath he was holding. “Because I want you to see me as I am. Not as the Sith I portray. I want you to see everything.”

“Why couldn't you stand to see the scars?” 

There was the faintest timble to his bottom lip. “Because seeing those scars reminded me that I failed. I failed to save my own brother from the toxicity of the Sith. That I ignored him in the same manner our parents ignored me. They were so self absorbed they just threw money at me allowing me to do whatever I wanted. I passed that same neglect to my brother, ignoring the jealousy and rage that had been building in him since we were children and our parents began favoring me. I could have helped my brother. I could have allied with him against our parents abuse. Instead, I killed him.”

“But he tried to kill you.”

“Because by then he believed that was the only way to gain our parent's attention. I failed him. I won’t fail anyone else again.” There was a hard determination to his tone. Something that made her heart break and admire him at the sametime. 

“But what about you? What do you want?” she asked.

He gave her a humorless laugh and dropped his gaze from her, “I think I got plenty of what I wanted in my youth.”

She kneeled down in from of him to make him look at her again, “But I want you to be happy, Lucy.”

If looks could break another’s heart, the look he gave her was one such. Unwilling to stop herself, Vette leaned forward and planted a soft kiss on the corner of his lips.  Her lips moved to his scarred throat, peppering it with quick soft kisses. His arms wrapped around her cradling her against him, loose enough that if she wished to she could easily push out of it. Never was he demanding with her. Always giving her a way to step back. Yet she remained with her arms holding him, protecting him as he protected her. Her loving, sweet, sad Lord.


End file.
